


Poison and Antidote

by imperatricerouge



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Depression, Eating Disorder, Episode: s02e08 Persistence of Vision, Episode: s05e03 Extreme Risk, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, recovery fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-09-07 01:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16844503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperatricerouge/pseuds/imperatricerouge
Summary: Self-destruction had shaped her, had created her, had become a feature of her personality. Nobody could take that away, even if she wanted them to. It was integrated into her ship’s systems. A series exploring Kathryn Janeway’s addictions.TW: Eating disorder & non-graphic self harm, applies throughout





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One of @MiaCooper's tumblr anons suggested something like this a while back, and it always struck me as very canon compliant (+ I have enough personal experience with the issue to fill a book or five), so I thought I'd stop being a lurker and go for it!

“Coffee. Black.” This was the fourth time this week that she had woken up with a withdrawal headache. The past few weeks had been trying, to say the least. One crisis after another had kept her on edge, running at a relentless pace. Though she’d never admit it, her exhaustion was overwhelming, and the more she tried to chase it away with coffee, the weaker the effect of the caffeine became. Her head pounded from even the slight movement it took to sit down. She stared down into her drink with sleep in her eyes and took a sip, almost more frustrated by her addiction to it than by the circumstances that necessitated it. _I can’t even go five hours without you?_

She knew she needed to cut back, if only to reduce her tolerance for the drug so that it would regain its effectiveness. An endless cycle. She sighed, her mind drifting back to her first cup, the way her father had added just enough cream and sugar to temper the biting bitterness… She hated its bitterness, she always had. She craved its energizing properties, relished it for its ability to banish the headaches it had caused in the first place—but the black taste brought her no pleasure whatsoever. She consumed it as quickly as she could, then recycled the mug, forcing herself to get up and prepare for the day. She stripped herself of her nightgown and undergarments and walked across to her dresser to retrieve her clothing, catching a glimpse of her bare body in the mirror on the way. She paused momentarily, shook her head dismissively, and hastily moved away, throwing on her uniform, twisting her hair up, swiping on some lipstick and mascara, and leaving the room without so much as a single glance back in the offending mirror. _I don’t even want to know._

XXX

“I’m Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager,” she announced with her characteristic combination of firmness and gentleness.

“Why have you entered our space without permission?” The silhouetted alien on the viewscreen demanded without prelude.

_It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it?_

“We didn't realize that this was your space. On what basis do you claim it?” Kathryn took up her standard hands-on-hips pose in the center of the room.

“I have no intention of explaining myself to you. The fact is, you're violating our territory.”

“I assure you, we mean no disrespect. We are from another part of the galaxy. We're just trying to make our way home.” She wondered if her weariness was evident in her voice. She hoped not. Letting hostile alien leaders sense vulnerability never turned out well.

“We'll send a ship to rendezvous with you. If you meet the criteria, we'll consider your request.”

“Thank you. What are the criteria?”

“We'll discuss that when we meet.” The alien ended the transmission abruptly.

“Friendly fellow.” She raised her eyebrows in subtle agreement with Tom’s sarcastic comment, then turned and paced back toward her chair.

“At least they're willing to talk,” she mused, attempting optimism. 

“I wonder why he wouldn't let us see his face,” Harry piped up.

“I suspect it was a calculated move. An attempt to intimidate us,” she paused, turning to Chakotay, “Commander, you have the Bridge.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Mr. Neelix, join me in my ready room. We should talk about this meeting,” she strode efficiently toward the doors, intending to replicate a cup of coffee as soon as she could.

“Captain, if I may…” Neelix’s hesitant voice came from behind her. She spun around, rather impatiently awaiting the rest of his sentence. “When was the last time you ate?”

She looked at him in genuine surprise and confusion as she somewhat nervously scanned her memory for the answer to his question. She couldn’t remember. When _had_ she last eaten? Suddenly she felt self-conscious, wondering if she looked as unwell as she felt. She cursed herself for not taking the time to put on some blush and cover the dark circles which had almost certainly made themselves at home under her eyes.

“Ate? Oh, I had some soup last night,” she deftly fibbed without meeting his gaze and tried to brush off the inquiry as gently as she could, knowing others were listening. The lie stirred an old memory which she quickly pushed away.

“Then let me suggest that we conduct our talk in the mess hall. We're serving a sumptuous repast for lunch.”

She should have predicted this suggestion as soon as he asked the question, but she still faltered for a moment. She couldn’t quite manage to conceal her sharp exhale or her dismayed expression. She looked at her feet briefly, fully prepared to tactfully decline when she suddenly felt everyone’s eyes on her, waiting for her reply. She glanced around the room and saw Harry, Chakotay, and Tuvok giving her identical stares which indicated that they would not take no for an answer. She wasn’t sure whether to be touched by their concern or annoyed and embarrassed by the condescension. _Why have they suddenly decided that I need to be looked after like a child? My habits haven’t affected my work. That’s all that matters._

“Right. Lunch it is,” she smiled weakly and reluctantly conceded defeat under the silent public pressure, following Neelix to the mess hall. 

“Captain, you have a nasty habit of skipping meals, and that can do horrible things to your electrolyte levels,” Neelix chirped. Kathryn was beginning to lean toward annoyance, but tried to remind herself that the Talaxian had good intentions. She had been on the receiving end of lectures about her eating habits more times than she cared to count, and she knew from experience that if she pushed back on such lectures it would only arouse additional concern.

“I know, but sometimes I just get too busy to eat.” A tired excuse, she knew, but a practiced and believable one. She hated to be weighed down by solid food during the day, especially when she was busy. _And it’s nobody’s business but mine anyway. Plenty of people go days, even weeks without eating. Why do people act like it’s the end of the world if I skip a meal here and there?_ She tuned him out a little as he listed the foods on offer. Her heart was racing, and she felt lightheaded, looking for any excuse to leave. She hadn’t been this stressed by the prospect of a lunch break in years. Her responsibilities were piled high, the ship was entering into a potentially hostile area, and the idea of losing her iron grasp on her routine by wasting time sitting and stuffing her face in the middle of the workday was particularly disorienting. She made sure to keep Neelix talking and bustling the entire time she was there, distracting him with a steady stream of questions until suddenly she was paged, giving her an opportunity to dart out of the mess hall after taking only a few bites from the buffet of alien snacks.

The day careened out of control quickly from that point. Many hours later as she got into bed having finally resolved the dispute with the Bothan alien, her mind lingered not on the close call or the troubling waking dreams they had all endured, but on her painfully public encounter with Neelix on the bridge. She kept returning to the way her officers had all stared at her as if she couldn’t be trusted to take care of her own health. She felt a twinge of guilt for giving them cause to lose confidence in her, fruitlessly reflecting on what exactly had given her away.

She had been so sure that her restrictive habits were still fully under control, but remembering Tuvok’s expression, how it had felt so piercing, so much more meaningful than the others’, she began to question herself. Tuvok alone had known her long enough to remember the years in which she actively grappled with the illness of her youth. He knew her predispositions, and evidently, they had been looming largely enough to warrant his attention for the first time in almost a decade. _Are they right to be concerned? Do they see something I’ve missed?_ She remembered her easy on-the-spot lie, closed her eyes, and finally confronted the memory that had resurfaced along with it.

_“Ensign Janeway, do you truly believe you are ready to return to active duty?”_

_“Yes, Counsellor. I’ve been doing everything you asked, it’s been six months. I think it would be harmful to postpone my life any longer...” she paused, “I need a task, something to refocus my mind on the future so that I won’t continue to be consumed by the past. I’ve switched to the command track, I’m starting over.”_

_“You are ambitious. I respect that, but do you think you will be able to pass the physical fitness tests required for reinstatement in your current condition?” the Starfleet-assigned counsellor looked her up and down skeptically._

_“Look, I know my weight has been a point of issue recently, but I assure you, I feel fine. I eat plenty.” Kathryn lied firmly, crossed her arms and balled up her fists, trying to warm her ice-cold fingers by tucking them into her palms._

_The counsellor leaned forward, still scrutinizing her with sympathetic eyes. “Your weight is only a concerning symptom of the real point of issue. Understatement and denial will not change the facts. According to the doctor, you are still underweight and you have only gained four pounds over the last month. You know your bone density has declined significantly from the time of your enlistment two years ago, and you are still suffering from bradycardia. Have you been following the meal plan you developed with the nutritionist, Ensign? Do you understand the dire importance of adhering to it?”_

_“Yes. Of course. I know I’ve been endangering myself and I know I need to gain some more weight. I fully intend to do so. I ate just before I arrived here.” She smiled and lied again as sweetly as she could, but her body was rigid and it was clear that she didn’t really believe her own words. She dug her fingernails harshly into her skin. “I will do whatever I have to do to be returned to active duty.”_

_“Weight restoration is only one piece of the puzzle, as you well know. We need to do our due diligence to ensure you won’t deteriorate again once you are released from mandated medical supervision. I have no doubt that you are capable of physically pushing yourself to succeed. That’s what I’m worried about, Kathryn. You need to learn when to stop pushing yourself, or the consequences could be fatal.”_

_“So, are you denying my request?” Kathryn tried to keep the edge out of her voice._

_The counsellor regarded her carefully. “No. You have made very impressive progress, you have clear goals for your future, and I believe your effort should be rewarded. I will approve a provisional return to active duty if you agree to continue coming in for counselling once a month for the next year. No physically strenuous or off-world assignments. At the end of that time, if your eating disorder has not reasserted itself, I will fully sign off on your return. Is that acceptable?”_

_“Yes, very good.” Kathryn fought a cringe at the words ‘eating disorder’ and lied for the third time, knowing she would use all her connections and pull all the strings she could to avoid submitting to the conditions the counsellor had listed. She walked out of that office and never returned._

It had been a long time since she had lied to anyone about her eating habits. She wasn’t sure why she had done it today of all times, and she couldn’t ignore that. She also couldn’t deny that she had been unusually finicky about her diet in recent months, increasingly reluctant to eat any solid food at all, often only consuming vegetable bouillon and the occasional dinner with Chakotay. She would readily admit that it was precisely this type of gradual elimination of meals and systematic reduction of caloric intake which had developed into a severe problem in the past. But even as she tentatively indulged it, she wasn’t stupid about it.

She knew how to avoid some of the more dangerous pitfalls. She took vitamins, she never fasted for too long, she stayed hydrated. She was a scientist. She knew what she was doing. She was well aware that stress made people susceptible to relapse. _But this is not really a relapse._ She had carried these neuroses with her every day since she was a young woman, she knew from experience exactly how much self-denial she could endure before her body broke down, and this wasn’t even close to that. _I haven’t even lost very much weight, I don’t think._ Sure, her clothing felt looser than it had when they were first pulled out into the Delta Quadrant, but not loose enough to merit anything more than a quick uniform downsize and a passing mental acknowledgement of the change. She really didn’t like to look at herself if she could avoid it, and she certainly didn’t bother to weigh herself.

If after all these years she had retained a tendency to be rigid and unforgiving with herself, it was because the strict discipline aided her and grounded her. Not only had she learned to live with it, she depended heavily on it. Besides, she thought, it had always seemed fundamentally wrong to categorize asceticism as “disorder”. Leniency breeds weakness. Weakness is disordered. Being in complete command of oneself—that’s perfect order, that’s professionalism, that’s why she had risen through the ranks so quickly. She could never relinquish her self-control without losing her command persona, without losing herself. Her self-destructive habits had been too deeply formative, had served her too well to turn her back on them now. The irony was not lost on her.

 _Are they right to be concerned?_ She thought about it for a moment. _No._

XXX

“Coffee. Black.”

“I don’t know how you can enjoy drinking that without any cream or sugar,” Chakotay thought aloud absently, watching her in the dim light of her ready room. She took a sip, staying silent for what felt like a long time. She looked up at him, thinking back on all the private, intimate stories he had told her about his father and the loss of his family, and she decided it was safe to expose this part of herself. 

“My father used to make it for me with cream and sugar,” she said simply. “After he was gone, the bitterness and the lack of nutritional value seemed right somehow.”

Chakotay placed his hand over hers without a word. She felt a surge of tenderness.

She had carried a cup of her father’s sweet coffee with her all the time at the Academy, using it to fuel countless all-nighters and thesis writing sessions and physical training classes. It had often been her only source of pleasure in the crucible of her intense academic schedule. It was an addiction even then, but an enjoyable one. It reminded her of her father, reminded her that she was working toward becoming like him. Now it reminded her of all that she had lost, all that she was trying to regain, dragging painful memories to mind and then propelling her forward, distracting her from the pain. The poison and the antidote, in more ways than one. She wondered what her father would think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for eating disorders (and also for some implied assault in this chapter, nothing wild on that front but be aware)

“I guess I’m not used to that kind of work,” she groaned, “My knots are getting knots.” The manual labor had worn her down more than she thought it would. She tended to jump into action with the assumption that she still possessed the noble strength of a young, athletic ensign. The disappointing realities of age compounded by decades of self-abuse only caught up after the damage had been done.

“Here, let me help.” He stood and moved around behind where she sat, gathering the hair off her back and stroking it for a moment before tossing it over the front of her shoulder. It was soft, fragrant, but not as thick as he imagined. He began to massage her neck muscles, rubbing the sore spots firmly, taking the opportunity to let his fingers memorize the contours of her neck and shoulders. If he had not been so overwhelmed by the unexpected intimacy of the moment and the sensuality of her satisfied moan, perhaps he would have given voice to the pang of concern he felt when his fingers dipped into the surprisingly deep hollows above her clavicle. Not wanting to ruin the moment, he made a mental note to ask her about it later.

She woke up at the crack of dawn the next morning, as was her routine whenever she was planetside. Drinking her coffee and watching the red alien sun rise over the clearing, she thought about her companion’s late-night confession. He loved her. He _loved_ her. Her stomach churned. She felt terribly exposed, terribly seen. It was just the two of them, and he loved her.

In the 6 hours since he had offered her his heart, she had been consumed by fear. All she wanted—all she asked for—was time. Time to figure out whether out she was even capable of accepting love and allowing herself to be cared for. She knew her inability to immediately reciprocate had wounded him, and she had to work hard not to internalize the guilt. She simply couldn’t allow the laws which had constrained her existence for so long to be compromised without careful consideration.

It was a sick irony that the world began to feel like it was closing in on her anytime her self-imposed tyranny was threatened. She’d never had more freedom, and she’d never felt more boxed in. Nothing was hers anymore but the secrets she still kept. He was the only man on the planet. To reveal something to him would be to reveal it to everyone in the world. No anonymity, no discretion, no defenses. No concealing the ugliness of her body or her mind. Vulnerability.

Gone were the days when she could use her fiancé or her professional ethics as a simple excuse not to return Chakotay’s affections. Using Starfleet legalism as a security blanket just wasn’t going to work anymore. She had always treasured her secrets and her privacy. She didn’t know who she would be without them, and now she could not maintain them without subjecting herself to total isolation.

XXX

_“Kathryn, is that you?” She startled and whirled around, ready to jump into action. Cheb. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I’ll be damned. I haven’t seen you in years.” She stared up at him, scrambling for the right words._

_“Cheb! Yes, it’s been a long time,” she tried to force a smile to her face. “What are you doing here?”_

_“Just in town on business, truthfully a dull trip until I saw you. You’ve lost so much weight, you look incredible! I almost didn’t recognize you at first.” His eyes swept over her from head to toe. Her jaw clenched, and she stepped back almost imperceptibly. She said nothing, and he continued to talk. He never did know when to shut up. He never could read her. “I mean really, you were beautiful back then too, of course, maybe a little bit of baby fat, but now… wow.” The way he looked at her made her want to crawl out of her skin._

_“Thank you, you look good too, I hope things have worked out for you,” she managed. He was so tall. Her mind was suddenly flooded with images of Cardassian men towering similarly over her and staring at her like she was a piece of meat, their eyes mapping obscene trails that would subsequently be travelled by their hands. She rubbed her neck with a clammy palm, tilting her head back to look him in the face. Her heartbeat accelerated just like it always had in his presence, but not for the same reasons._

_“They have. Everything is great. What about you? Did you become a science officer like you wanted?”_

_“I did. I just returned from a research expedition in the galactic rim last year.” She said the words carefully, as if she were trying to convince herself of their veracity. “In fact, I’m so sorry, I’m actually on my way to an important meeting right now, I’m afraid I can’t stay and talk,” she lied. Her chest began to hurt. She bit the inside of her cheek fiercely and felt a tiny wave of relief as blood began to fill her mouth, the pain distracting her from the rising panic._

_“That’s alright, drop me a line when you get some free time, I’d love to… reconnect.” She knew he meant well but couldn’t shake the feeling that he was mentally undressing her._

_“I’ll try. Goodbye, Cheb,” she said quickly. She thought she might pass out._

_“See you around, Kathryn!”_

_She hurried away so quickly she was almost running, desperate to reach her apartment as soon as she possibly could. She took the stairs two at a time and fumbled to unlock the door with shaking hands. Once she was inside, she slumped against it, gasping for air. Every muscle in her body felt tight, and she was trembling violently from head to toe despite the warm spring air. She wrapped her arms around herself and bent over from the waist, feeling a sob rise in her throat. She tried to swallow it but failed, unable to suppress tears while hyperventilating. She spent the next several minutes going through the relaxation exercises her sister had taught her, slowly regaining her control._

_When she was able, she wiped the tears off her face, kicked off her shoes where she stood, and went to her bedroom, pulling some towels from the cedar chest and heading for the bathroom. Justin wasn’t home yet. She was glad. She didn’t intend to tell him about her chance encounter with her ex-boyfriend and she certainly didn’t intend to tell him about the resulting anxiety attack. At first, she had felt foolish for feeling so violated by Cheb’s attention and compliments, rude and weak for running away. But as she peeled off her clothes and sank into her bath, she realized she was angry._

_What was she supposed to have said? A part of her wished she could have told him why she was so much thinner, just to watch him put his foot in his mouth. ‘Yes, nice to see you again, I was imprisoned and tortured and used and now I starve myself to assert my bodily autonomy, but I’m glad you find my underweight body attractive, that makes it all worth it’. She knew she shouldn’t be so spiteful, but she couldn’t help it._

_She held her breath and slipped under the water, opening her eyes and staring up at the ceiling through the rippling surface. It annoyed her that people kept assuming her weight loss was a good thing, not that she really wanted them to know why it was a bad thing. She was tired of being told she looked better than ever when she felt worse than ever._

_It was only a matter of time before those close to her would begin to realize that there was more to her unwillingness to eat than just lingering trauma. Justin was starting to catch on. Every morning, before she even opened her eyes, she laid on her back and skimmed her hands over her torso under the covers. She let her fingers dip into the sunken spaces between her ribs, traced the length of her collarbone, grabbed her hipbones, and pinched the skin on her concave stomach, taking stock of her deprivation, taking comfort in its progression. She did this day in and day out, until one morning last week, when Justin had caught her red handed in the middle of her routine, his hands moving to stop hers. Since then, he had kept a watchful eye on her, though not a knowing eye. She came up for air._

_Deep down, she knew she was going to have to start getting help and taking care of herself if she planned on marrying him. He wouldn’t allow this to go on without interference. He would force her to choose between loving him and hating herself, and as much as she loved him, she wasn’t sure what her answer would be when the ultimatum inevitably came. She put it out of her mind. That was a problem for another day. She finished bathing and got dressed in short order. Justin was due home, and the two of them were leaving to meet up with her father in a couple of hours to start the three-day journey to the Tau Ceti System in the new shuttle he’d been working on._

XXX

She heard the floor creak behind her before she saw him. He came and stood next to her on their makeshift porch in his pajamas.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning. You’re up early.”

“So are you,” he pointed out, regarding her with interest. He scrutinized her expression, trying to figure out whether she was about to break his heart.

She felt him staring at her, but she didn’t squirm or feel uncomfortable under his gaze. In fact, she felt strengthened by it. She felt respected. She considered this. He was seeing her, and it was okay. The world hadn't come crashing down yet. There was a long pause.

“Chakotay,” she said softly, putting her coffee down on the ground and turning to face him, “I’m afraid.”

He looked stunned. This was not one of the two possible outcomes he had prepared himself for.

“Why are you afraid? What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” she looked out at the trees, trying to hide the mist gathering in her eyes. “I’m not… brave, or beautiful, or wise, or any of the things you said. I’ve been weak and cowardly. I’ve been foolish. I’ve been used and broken and ruined, and that will never change. I can never give myself over to anyone fully, because pieces of me are just… gone. I’m not good enough for you.” She spat out the words like rotten fruit. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

His face was unreadable to her. He stepped closer, putting gentle hands on her cheeks and swiping her tears away with his thumbs. She felt so small. A moment later, she realized she didn't feel panicked about the fact that he dwarfed her completely in her bare feet. “Let’s get one thing straight. I decide what’s good enough for me. You don’t get to tell me not to love you. Understand?”

Her tears flowed more freely, and she took a deep breath, gathering her courage. His tone provided no room for debate. She was tired of fighting herself. “Okay.”

And then he bent down and kissed her softly, his hands moving to her waist. She felt his hands slowly slide upward, bumping along the ridges of her ribcage with intention and then downward to rest on her sharp hipbones. His lips traveled a path down her neck to her clavicle. He pulled back, and he looked her in the eye, running a finger along its length. She started to pull away, but he held her in place.

“Kathryn. No more of this. You don’t have to explain anything you don’t want to, but this ends today.” She knew exactly what he was talking about. She had known someone would eventually demand this of her since the beginning.

“I’m not sure I can give it up.”

“Do you promise to try?”

It was her turn to put her hands on his cheeks.

“For as long as we’re here, I promise to try.” She couldn’t stop herself from adding the condition—just in case.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for eating disorders, self harm, and referenced sexual assault apply throughout, stay safe.

_Owen regarded his protégée over the rim of his glasses. Her hair was pulled back in a limp ponytail, her face was sickly pale, and her civilian clothing did nothing to hide the sharp angles of her body despite being heavily layered. Her eye makeup was obviously slept-in. It had been less than a year since he’d last seen her, but the drastic change in her personality and demeanor was jarring. He could hardly believe that this was the same lively young woman who had once confidently demanded that he supervise her ambitious junior honors thesis._

_Kathryn shifted in her seat, the bones of her rear pressing painfully into the hard chair. No matter what position she was in, she never seemed to be able to get comfortable anymore. Her head felt cloudy. “Kathryn, are you listening to me?” She registered that he had used her first name and that his voice was tinged with concern, something he rarely displayed._

_She blinked, refocusing on him. “I’m sorry, sir, I guess I’m a little distracted.”_

_“I spoke to your counselor. She seemed to think you were doing better. Said she’d tentatively agreed to clear you for duty.”_

_Her face brightened a little at the thought. “Yes, finally. I’m looking forward to returning and starting command courses. It’ll be a nice distraction”_

_“I’m sure.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “But I have to admit, I’m still worried about you.”_

_“I assure you, there’s no need to be.” Her voice sounded hoarse and low and strangely dispassionate._

_“Here’s the thing… I don’t believe you,” he said softly. He walked around the desk and perched on the edge in front of her. She looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “You’ve been giving your counselor the impression that your…” he trailed off, looking for the right word, “…ailment… was caused by the crash. It was a terrible, unspeakable loss, of course, but I think we both know that’s not the entire story.”_

_“What are you saying, sir?” Her tone was sharp. He sighed and looked over her shoulder for what seemed like several minutes. He knew she wasn’t ever going to be honest with a counselor, but perhaps he could get her to be honest with him, or at least with herself. Either way, he felt compelled to try._

_“Take a walk with me, Ensign.”_

_She stood. Her vision blacked out temporarily, her knees ached, and her jeans slipped down her hips. She was careful to turn away and hide her face, grabbing her bag and her coffee while she recovered from the headrush. She followed him out his private exit into the courtyard. Her hands fumbled for the metal box and lighter in her pocket. “Do you mind, sir?”_

_He looked sideways at her and raised an eyebrow, but shook his head. “Go ahead.” He watched as she lit a cigarette and inhaled as if her life depended on it. She pulled her coat sleeves over her knuckles and waited a long time for him to speak._

_“I know your difficulties began after we returned from our… excursion together. It may have gotten worse after the crash, but it started before.”_

_She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “Please don’t try to deny it. I know what they did to you. I saw you. Lieutenant Tighe saw you.” She said nothing this time, just took another long drag, pressed her lips together tightly, and tried to focus on the details of the brick wall to distract from the prickling of tears behind her eyes. She wanted to scream at him for bringing up such painful subjects, but suppressed the urge, reminding herself that Admiral Paris had also been imprisoned by the Cardassians, that he had lost a close friend in her father and a respected protegé in her fiancé. Phoebe’s lecture about how she was not the only person suffering rang in her ears._

_“He asked for my advice the week before he died, you know. He was worried.”_

_That got her attention. “He was?”_

_“I told him it wasn’t unusual for you to work too hard and neglect your health. But he was sure it was more than neglect. Said you were intentionally denying yourself, that you were losing too much weight, that he didn’t know quite what to do.”_

_He looked at her, waiting for a reaction. She didn’t give one. “When the investigators called me to the crash site after it happened, they were trying to piece together what exactly had occurred. They told me how they found you…” He shook his head, and continued haltingly._

_“The medics, they told me your leg was badly injured, but they didn’t understand why it had broken in the way that it did. They said that the damage was too severe to have been caused by a single impact and that it looked like you had tried to run a marathon on it after the initial break. We saw a few footprints in the snow of course, but nothing at the scene that explained how you could have sustained a fracture so complex by accident.”_

_She felt her face growing hot, and rubbed her cheek with a cold hand, saying nothing. “They decided not to question it any more than they already had, and I didn’t need them to. It seemed obvious that if it hadn’t occurred by accident, then it… must have occurred on purpose. It made sense, in light of what the Lieutenant had told me only a few days before.”_

_She closed her eyes and braced herself against the onslaught of memories._

_“You shattered the bones in an already broken leg. The pain must have been unimaginable,” he probed gently. She picked at the skin on her lower lip until it started to bleed._

_“Being overwhelmed by physical pain seemed preferable to facing reality,” she finally volunteered succinctly, staring at her feet as they walked around the frozen garden. “It still does,” she added quietly._

_“How much longer do you think you can survive like this, harming yourself in order to cope? Be honest with yourself, do you actually believe that starving yourself within an inch of your life is a viable long-term strategy?”_

_Her head snapped up, and she glared at him, her temper reignited by his direct, unforgiving approach. “What business is it of yours how much I eat? Besides, I’m in recovery. The counselor says I’m fine. So I don’t see why this intrusive line of questioning is necessary.”_

_“Right.” His spirits lifted despite her harsh words. There it was, embedded in her furious expression. The spark of her former self. She was alive. She was still alive._

_She ignored his sarcasm and mulled over all of this new information. Justin had known much more than she had given him credit for. So did the Admiral, for that matter. She shivered, finished her cigarette, and lit another._

_“Those things will kill you,” Owen said, knowing he sounded more like a father than an Admiral._

_“I know,” she laughed hoarsely, without humor._

_He stopped short. “And you wonder why I’m worried.”_

_“I’m fine, sir. Just tired. I’m sorry.”_

_“It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot.”_

_He stared at her hand as she brought her cigarette to her chapped, bleeding lips. It was shaking. Her wrists and fingers looked impossibly fragile._

_“Have you eaten today?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking._

_“Yes,” she said hotly, her eyes flashing a warning._

_“Okay,” he held up his hands. “You know you’ll need your strength to succeed in your new career track. Things will have to change.”_

_“I know.”_

_She choked on an unexpected wave of shame, and took a sip of coffee to wash it down—along with the lump in her throat. She had always prided herself on being someone that no one had to worry about, someone strong enough to ignore. Things were so different now. She was a stranger to herself. She was weak. But more than anything, she was embarrassed. He seemed to read her mind._

_She felt his hand on her shoulder and had to fight not to shrink away from the contact. He saw her discomfort and removed his hand right away, mentally kicking himself for the misstep. “It’s not weakness to ask for help when you need it. It’s bravery.”_

_The lump rose in her throat again._

_“You know I’m always here for you. Anything you need, okay? I can’t stand to see you this way.”_

_“Yes, sir. Thank you.” She forced a smile and turned to leave._

_“Kathryn?”_

_She turned back._

_“Take care of yourself. Please.”_

_“Is that an order, sir?”_

_“You know it is. Give your mother my regards.”_

XXX

“Would you excuse us please, Doctor?” She stalked intently over to the end of the bed where B’Elanna sat. The Doctor took one look at her face and made himself scarce.

“Captain, what's going on?”

She took a deep breath. “When the Doctor examined you, he found evidence of internal bleeding, fractured vertebrae, contusions, cranial trauma…”

“I guess the accident was pretty serious,” B’Elanna feigned innocence.

“The injuries I'm talking about didn't happen recently. Some of them are weeks, even months old.”

“Well, I'm an engineer. I've had my share of bumps and bruises.”

“But you didn't seek treatment for any of these.”

“I don't run to Sickbay every time I stub my toe.”

“Some of these injuries were life-threatening, B'Elanna.” Janeway gripped the edge of the bed, her knuckles turning white with frustration as her Chief Engineer avoided making eye contact.

“Do I look like I'm dying?”

“The Doctor says many of the wounds were treated by someone with the medical expertise of a first-year nursing student.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Is it? We investigated today's accident. You turned off the safety protocols during the holo-simulation. Why?” The Captain’s voice was sharp and demanding, but there was a sliver of fear underpinning her words. B’Elanna knew she probably wasn’t going to get away with minimizing her injuries or her actions, but that sure as hell wasn’t going to stop her from continuing to try.

“We have a microfracture problem. With the safety protocols on, there's no way to be sure what would happen during a real flight.” As soon as the words had left her mouth, she knew she sounded completely full of shit. She had never been a good liar.

“You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?” 

“Are you calling me a liar?”

Janeway didn’t respond to the empty provocation, just raised a sympathetic eyebrow. “According to the holodeck logs, you've been spending a lot of time there over the last few months. If I were to check, would I find that you've been running other programs without safety protocols?”

“Would you like to look at my personal logs as well?” She quipped.

“B'Elanna, I'm worried about you. If there's something wrong, I want to help.”

“Nothing's wrong. Okay?” Another bad lie added to the endless stream of bad lies. It crossed her mind that she’d never heard the Captain _plead_ before. Not like this, anyway. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like the way the other woman was looking at her, either. She hadn’t done any of this to elicit attention or concern. She wanted to be alone.

“No. It's not okay. And until you decide to be more forthcoming, you'll remain under the Doctor's supervision. Which means you're off the shuttle project. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not.” B’Elanna cast her eyes down on her bare knees, but felt a finger under her chin, lifting her head again.

“Now I know there's something wrong.” Janeway studied her counterpart’s expression, hesitated, and then said softly, “If you’re feeling up to it, then come join me for a drink later, after dinner. Say, around 2030 hours?”

B’Elanna looked uncertain, but nodded in agreement. Janeway nodded, squeezed her shoulder and left Sickbay without another word, already trying to come up with the most effective way to get through to the younger woman.

The door to Kathryn’s quarters chimed at 2033.

“Come in,” she called. She looked up to see B’Elanna standing awkwardly in the doorway. “B’Elanna, I’m so glad you came, please sit down.” She walked over to her desk and poured two glasses of whiskey, holding one out. ”The real thing.”

“Thank you,” B’Elanna took the glass, temporarily thrown by the sight of her superior out of uniform. She looked tiny as she padded back over to curl up in the corner of her couch again. B’Elanna followed and sat on the edge of the furthest cushion, leaving an uncomfortably large distance between them.

Kathryn took a sip, stared out the window at the stars, and traced the rim of the glass with her finger. “You know, I was just thinking of something my mother always says, about how my voice is so different from how it was when I was young. She says it used to be lighter. Much higher. I suppose she’s right. But the change was so gradual, I never would have noticed it on my own.” She glanced at B’Elanna, gauging her reaction to the unexpected topic, “Of course, it’s no wonder that it’s changed. I smoked two packs a day for five years. Only kicked the habit because Admiral Paris conspired with my mother to reprogram all the replicators so that they would produce a meal every time my ID code was used to replicate cigarettes.” She smiled wryly at the memory.

“Captain, no offense, but surely you didn’t ask me here to talk about your voice.”

“You’re right. Of course,” she shook her head.

B’Elanna looked at her expectantly.

“I spoke to Chakotay. He told me what you said in the holodeck, how you hurt yourself to feel alive,” she said plainly, testing the waters.

“Oh.” B’Elanna’s face turned red.

“I… just wanted you to know... that I understand what it’s like to have dangerous and self-destructive habits. I know you probably don’t believe me. But I promise you, I do understand. And I know you must feel alone and ashamed. But you shouldn’t.” She seemed uncharacteristically nervous as she spoke, and B’Elanna found her interest piqued despite herself.

“With all due respect, Captain, a smoking habit isn’t exactly on par with what I was doing.”

“I wasn’t referring to that.” She drained her glass, put it down on the table, and twisted her hands together, trying to figure out how to proceed.

B’Elanna frowned, moving a little closer and leaning back, clutching her drink in both hands. “What _were_ you referring to?”

“Maybe it’s better if I show you.”

Kathryn stood and went over to her desk, grabbing her computer and bringing it over to the couch. She clicked through a few personal files before arriving at a password-protected photo album. Her breath caught in her chest as she pulled up a few old images of herself and turned the screen toward B’Elanna. She watched the engineer’s confused expression falter as she realized the identity of the deathly ill, nearly-unrecognizable young woman in the photos.

“No… that’s… oh my god, Captain… you did that to yourself? On purpose?”

“I was out of control, addicted to the feeling of being empty. I felt… numb and dead. Hunger and physical pain were the only things I was able to feel, so I started obsessively seeking out those feelings, taking pleasure in them even though they were killing me. Sometimes I think I took pleasure in them _because_ they were killing me.” She fought to control the emotion in her voice.

“I almost didn’t make it, B’Elanna. I put my friends and family through hell. I couldn’t stop. I would be long-dead if they hadn’t intervened. The morning these pictures were taken, I swore to my sister that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me, that I was perfectly healthy.” She took a breath and stared at the ceiling, shaking her head. “I sometimes forget how far I’ve come, but seeing these again… wow,” she forced a laugh.

“So... why did you start doing this in the first place? How did your family get you to stop?” She couldn’t quite stifle her curiosity.

“Those are long stories for another time. You and I have both survived some horrific, traumatic experiences. What matters is that we made it and that I’m here with you now, telling you that I won’t stand by and let you harm yourself. I know how hard it is. I completely understand the internal conflict. You can tell me anything, and I will never be scared away. There’s nothing you can say that will shock me, okay? I’ve done it all.”

B’Elanna nodded mutely, the moment of mutual empathy and affection too pure to interrupt.

“And Lieutenant,” Kathryn added after a moment, “nobody else on the ship knows about this except Tuvok. I’d appreciate your discretion.”

"Chakotay?"

"No. He doesn't know details. Not that I don't trust him, but he worries so much already, I think it would be too upsetting for him to think of me in that condition. Maybe I'll tell him someday, but not now. You won't say anything?"

“Of course not,” she managed. “Thank you for… confiding in me.”

“I hope it made you feel less alone. And I hope it made you feel safe confiding in me, too, if that’s what you want,” she said, putting a hand on B’Elanna’s cheek. “You can always come to me. You will never find anything but support.”

“Captain?” B’Elanna still couldn’t tear her wide eyes from the wrenching images on the screen, trying to reconcile them with the appearance of the woman currently next to her.

“What is it?” Kathryn closed the computer, not wanting to be so graphically confronted by her past any longer.

B’Elanna grabbed her hand.

“I…. I’m glad you’re okay now. You _are_ okay now, right?”

She smiled wistfully. “It’s a difficult road. Some days are easy. Some aren’t. The urges never go away, but with time and love, they become a little bit easier to suppress. You’ll see.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little different because I couldn't get the second part of it to work out how I planned, and I figured posting half was better than posting nothing. Trigger warnings apply, as usual.

I need to talk to you! Now!” Phoebe called through the bathroom door.

“I’m in the bath, Phoebe, can’t it wait?” The door opened, and a wall of precious heat escaped into the hallway.

“Kathryn, I said now,” she demanded, thrusting a towel at her.

"Give me ten minutes."

“No, I’m going to stand right here until you get out and talk to me.”

“Talk to you about what? You had all day to do this, and you waited until I was in the bath? At least close the door. I was trying to warm up.”

“...Oh. Right. Sorry,” she said lamely, rethinking her aggressive strategy. Kathryn took advantage of the split second when her back was turned to step out of the old-fashioned tub and wrap the giant towel around her wasted torso. She sank down onto the edge of the bath, digging her toes into the fluffy mat on the floor. Phoebe leaned against the counter, picking at her ragged cuticles nervously.

“Phoebs, what’s going on?”

“I just… I don’t know why I didn’t realize until now, hours later,” she paused, “if you hadn’t found that dog, you wouldn’t have come back.”

Kathryn blanched. “What are you talking about?”

Phoebe hadn’t been sure when she made the accusation, but the guilt and defensiveness evident in Kathryn’s bearing were convincing her she was right. Her heart sank. She had wanted so badly to be wrong. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You were going to kill yourself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I was just going for a walk,” she insisted.

“You’ve been resisting walks all week, and now you want to take a long one alone? In a whiteout blizzard? At night? You seemed… content during dinner earlier, staring out the window. And I didn’t question it because I wanted to believe you were doing better, that I was helping. But now it’s obvious. You only seemed calm because you’d made up your mind to wander off and let yourself die out there.”

“Phoebe, no, I-”

“God, don’t you ever get tired of all the lies, Kathryn?! Stop lying! Do you have any idea what it would’ve done to mom if you had killed yourself? To me? Did you even think about it? Do you even care?” Phoebe’s voice was near-hysterical. Kathryn stood up swiftly, grabbing her little sister by the shoulders, feeling her eyes fill with tears. She ignored the lightheadedness and shivered as her wet hair dripped down her spine.

“Of course I care. I hadn’t made up my mind to do anything, I swear. I thought about it, but I hadn’t made up my mind, please, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t have actually done it.”

Phoebe felt bile rise in her throat at the verbal confirmation. “But that was what you were thinking of when you left the house.” Her voice was deathly quiet.

“Please, please, don’t say anything to mom. She can’t find out,” Kathryn begged.

“I’m not going to tell her, it wouldn’t do you any good, and I don’t want her to be any more worried than she already is.” Phoebe tugged at her eyelashes, shaking her head anxiously. “I don’t think you understand how broken we would be if we lost you. It would kill her, Kathryn. It would KILL her, and then I’d be the only one left. I would never recover from that. You think I’m just some spoiled nag, but I’m terrified. You’re the glue holding my entire world together. I need you. I can’t let you die.”

“I don’t think you’re a spoiled nag. And I’m not suicidal, Phoebe, it was just a moment of weakness, it won’t happen again.” She didn’t know if that was the truth or not, but she said it with all the assurance she could muster. She pulled Phoebe into a hug. “It’s okay. I’m not going to die. I’m here, alright? You won’t be alone.”

Phoebe squeezed Kathryn’s frail body tightly, looking like a little girl. “You’re different. Everything is different. I’m afraid I’ll never get you back.”

Kathryn kissed the top of her head.

“Let me put on some clothes, okay?” She said softly.

Phoebe released her vice-like grip and followed her into the bedroom mutely. Kathryn turned, waiting for her to leave or avert her eyes, but she plopped down on the bed instead. "I already know what you look like, Kath, you don’t have to hide.”

“I’m not hiding. This is my room.”

“You think you’re so sneaky, but you’re not. Everyone knows you haven’t been eating. You look like shit. Just get dressed.” Kathryn blushed a little, rolled her eyes, and hung up her towel, resigning any expectation of privacy as she stepped into a fresh pair of underwear. She looked briefly over at Phoebe and, as promised, found no surprise in the grey eyes which regarded her gravely. Her sister’s capacity to swing from irreverence to seriousness in a nanosecond never failed to unnerve her.

“Stop staring.” She felt self-conscious.

“Kath… Look at yourself. You’re disappearing. You’re a skeleton. It scares me. And you can’t say in good conscience that I’m wrong to feel that way.” She picked at her fingernails again before adding, “Not to mention you’re supposed to report for duty in a couple weeks. I don’t think they’ll let you back right away. Not like this. They’ll take one look at you and march you straight to therapy.”

Kathryn shivered violently and crossed her arms over her naked chest, obligingly casting a glance at herself in the full length mirror. “Stop it, they will not. I’m fine, okay?” She shrugged her shoulders, “I’m careful about what I eat, I’m not as soft around the edges as I used to be, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me. Look, there’s still so much fat on my thighs that I could go into hibernation,” she joked, pinching the skin on the inside of her bony leg. “The only parts of me that are disappearing are the parts that were unnecessary to begin with. There’s no reason for them not to let me back.”

Phoebe shook her head, the corners of her mouth drooping. She looked up at the ceiling and blinked back a fresh wave of tears.

“You know what upsets me? I think you really believe what you’re saying. You honestly can’t see that you have a problem. I’m going to find a camera and take some pictures of you when we get up tomorrow. Maybe that’ll make it easier for you to see yourself as you are.”

Kathryn slipped into a pair of silky pajamas and slid into bed, trying to warm herself. “I’m fine, Phoebe. There’s nothing to see. Take whatever pictures you want, but in a few years you’ll look back at them and you’ll see that you were overly worried.” She clicked off the lights. Her sister didn’t move to leave.

“Kath?”

“What?” Irritation seeped into her tone.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Why?” There was a long silence.

“I just want to make sure you’re safe,” Phoebe finally said meekly, her voice thick.

Kathryn’s heart softened. She scooted over and pulled back the covers without a word, inviting the younger girl to snuggle into her.

As they laid face to face in the impenetrable dark listening to the howling of the wind outside, she felt Phoebe’s soft, delicate hand creep along her side. She despised herself for involuntarily cringing at the unexpected contact. The hand traveled slowly up the deep valley of her waist and over the jagged, jutting crest of her ribs, so gentle and chaste that she felt an unexpected sob chew its way through her chest, wedging itself in her throat.

Phoebe seemed so untarnished and innocent. Kathryn found herself praying that her sister would never meet men who wanted to destroy her for the sake of destroying her. She prayed that her own ugly habits would never rub off on this tender being.

The misery of the last couple years washed over her from a fresh point of view. Phoebe’s bright-eyed big sister had gone on a research assignment and had never returned. The person who did return wore a dull, glazed expression, refused to eat, worked too much, slept too little, couldn’t bear to be touched. Phoebe must have heard the hushed, agonized whispers between their parents, must have known how bad things were by the way the whispers stopped whenever she rounded the corner. She had endured all of it without ever really being included in any of it. And the same thing was happening now. Phoebe’s pain, always overshadowed by her older sister’s. Phoebe’s pain, always exacerbated by her older sister’s.

Kathryn’s gut twisted as she considered what would have happened to her sister if she hadn’t stumbled across that tiny, freezing dog. For a moment, she wondered if their father was responsible for its presence. Her stomach growled angrily in the quiet darkness. It hurt. Good. She deserved it. She hoped Phoebe hadn’t heard it. She didn’t deserve to have to worry about it. 

“Kath?” The sound of her name cut through the night a second time, breaking off her thoughts.

Phoebe’s hand moved up to stroke her still-wet hair.

“Yeah?” she whispered.

“I love you.”

They clung together, both suppressing tears, trying to project comfort to one another with long, slow, deliberate breaths.


End file.
